Page 38 of The Highlander's Captured Bride
Twisting to look at Ethan, she saw him nod slightly and she smiled. “I will.”
He stood slowly, as if his body was resisting in doing so but when his frame unfolded, he lifted a hand to massage the back of his neck. “I’ll need a moment to have something warm, would ye come with me to the kitchens first, Miss O’Cain?”
“I would like the same,” Violet replied before looking at the older men. A brief inkling that her father was pushing her out of the way so he and the Laird could discuss something more, pinged in her mind. She would not dismiss it as it had happened before. “Pardon me?”
“Aye,” the Laird rubbed his tired eyes and her father nodded.
With Ethan in step with her, they were quiet down the hall until Ethan broke it. “I wonder what is that they daenae want us to hear.”
Shooting an impressed look to him, she shrugged. “I cannae tell, but either way, I am sure me faither won’t steer ye wrong.”
His smile was faint, but it was a smile nonetheless, and he held the door open for her. Seated, she called for nettle tea but Ethan requested a bottle of whisky and a goblet. Taken aback, she had never taken Ethan for a man to drink such hard spirits, she could understand why. He had just been hit with a strong blow, and alcohol did have a numbing effect on the body at times.
While she sipped her brew, Ethan filled his goblet with the potent spirit and took a hefty gulp. She stared at the smooth bobs of his Adam’s apple and temporarily forgot to drink before he pulled the cup away. Leaning back, he tiredly pressed the cold metal on his temple. Sipping her brew, Violet saw him suck in a deep breath before saying, “I cannae but fear what might come next.”
His tone—a rife mix of dread and hopelessness—had her cringing inside. What could she say to take his mind off this bleakness? “Faither found out that I was with ye at Sellek and Turren.” Ethan’s eyes flickered open. “He said that though it was dangerous, we found the key to finding the O’Bachnon woman.”
“That’s something then,” he muttered.
When he placed the goblet down, she saw a slight tremble in his hand. Was he angry or anxious? Rubbing his tense eyebrows, he sighed. “I’m sorry, me mind is ten places at once.”
“I understand,” she sympathized. “It’s like it’s nae stopping, innit? First yer brother, then Miss O’Bachnon is dead, and now, ye’re being threatened. Ye’re wondering if it will ever end.”
“Will it?” His words and eyes were hollow.
Settling the cup on the table between them, she shook her head slowly. “Sadly, nae at once, but it will.”
He tipped the bottle and poured out more whisky. “That’s what I kent.” After downing the cup, he stared at it while spinning it in his hand. “I rarely get to the bottom of a bottle, but I am sorely tempted now.”
Eyeing the bottle, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and shoved it aside. “Let's get away from here before I sink into temptation.”
“Where are we going?” she asked while standing.
“Ye’ll see when we get there.” Ethan’s cryptic words had her beginning to worry again.
“Should I change?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Nay, I dinnae—” he paused. “Perhaps ye should. It might make things easier.”
Feeling that Ethan was struck with a need of wanderlust, she nodded. “I’ll meet ye at the stables.”
He was turned away from her, but his curt nod had her hurrying to her room to change into her trousers and shirt. Bypassing the scratchy wig, she let her hair rest on her shoulders and tugged on her boots. Pausing to rub her face and suck in deep breaths, she raked through her mind to find something—anything at all— to ease Ethan’s uneasiness.
When she realized that there was nothing she could do, her face twisted in a grimace. “I’m sorry, Ethan.”
Pushing her reservations away, she hastened through the halls and down to the stables where Ethan had her horse saddled and ready for her. Making to grasp the horse’s reins, she paused, dropping the straps to embrace Ethan instead.
His body was tense like a rod of iron jabbed into the ground and she felt tiny trembles under his shirt. He did not react at first, but then folded his arms around the top of her back and slid his hand behind her neck. No words passed between them but his body, filled such nervous tension, began to calm.
His nose brushed her ear and his breath whispered over her skin in a low, long exhale. When she pulled away, she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes and try not to react to the soft grateful emotion resting there. He helped her up to ride astride, and grasping the reins, she rubbed the horse’s neck as it shifted uneasily under her.
Ethan hopped onto his horse quickly and headed out into the cool afternoon. He led her to the same side gate that led them to the forest and right into the thicket. They did not speak but there was no tenseness between them. She held him in her peripheral but looked at the forest. The slow walk allowed her to see the heads of critters darting up from the underbrush and the perch of colorful birds on the limbs above them.
All around her was pervasive green but she felt that if they broke into a glen, she would see flowers and rolling hills. Ethan rode with a peculiar stiffness to his spine but had a slump to his shoulder. She held her peace, waiting for him to break it. But he did not. Walking was peaceful but she could see Ethan's stiffened face.
I wish he would just tell me what’s on his mind.
Still, they walked in silence until they broke out into a tiny meadow and he paused. Following his lead, she stopped her riding too as he slipped off the saddle. She stayed still, wondering what he was doing when he came to her side and helped her dismount. With her hands on his shoulder, she allowed him to slip her off but even when she was on the ground, he did not let go.
